


Flowers and Freckles

by Bunnniiiii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-01-13 18:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21196388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnniiiii/pseuds/Bunnniiiii
Summary: Lance McClain has a date with a girl named Ana. She's gorgeous; blue eyes, tan skin, hair the color of the sand on the beach off the coast of California.... but, nevermind that.Although it's his third date with her, he is determined to get her a gorgeous bouquet of flowers from the flower shop downtown. He's never been to this flower shop. He's practically new to the state.Walking into the flower shop is like walking into an IKEA plus another IKEA but on a video game in which they glitched together.. but when he makes his way to the front after unsuccessfully finding what he wanted, his eyes land on a man with strange eyes and pitch black hair..It takes irritable arguing over flowers and a cigarette for Lance to realize that this man looks familiar





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> y'all so i'm hella new to this and i was originally gonna post this to wattpad but that felt lame so here i am oops  
keith n lance meet n keef is an asshole to lance because he's keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith and lance meet at a flower shop. Lance is hastily trying to find flowers for his date with a girl named ana. Keith is the pissy cashier. they get off on a really bad foot because Keith is smoking and Lance finds it necessary to yell at him about it. then Keith realizes Lance, and so does Lance, but Lance can't remember why. uhhhh am bad at summaries. just read

Tie: straightened, hair: groomed, date: in half an hour, and... hotel? Trivago.

Anyway, it's currently fucking 1:30 pm and Lance is hustling his tall ass down the sidewalk next to a busy LA street. The amount of men and women taller than him with fancy briefcases and suits and ties walking down the sidewalk as well as himself is nearly the same fucking amount of the crackheads who are creeping down each and every alleyway. It's insane.

Meanwhile, there's Lance, a hopeless romantic. Who's racing down the street in the hopes of finding the flower shop before he's late to his date with Ana.

Oh, Ana. The most gorgeous girl he's ever laid his eyes on.

Today is his third date with her and he is swearing to the fucking ocean gods that he's head over fucking heels for her. His best friend Hunk likes to say that he's insane for falling for someone so fast, but he can't help it. Not when this girl is so fucking soft. Ana Marisol -- he knows her middle name -- Cambridge. Big, soft blue eyes, light brown skin, a splash of freckles upon her cheeks, and hair that... can a color look soft? If not, Ana just made it possible.

The fucking screeching of tires and a couple dozen horns going off in response scares Lance from his thoughts, and he's immediately reminded of the fact that he's literally on a time limit. So he picks up his speed, dodging people left and right.

Lance knows that the flower shop is called something along the lines of 'Kogane Florals'... Or something. He was told it was off of the road he's currently darting down, but he can't find it. Fucking hell, he's gonna be late. He's going to be late and Ana is going to dump his ass. Oh, God. Fuck everything.

Like a light shining on his head from the heaven's he isn't sure he believes in, his eyes land on a door opening and an older gentleman with a large bouquet of flowers in his arms walking out of the building. Lance lets out a loud sigh of relief, darting over and pulling the door open for himself before it shuts once again.

Inside, it's earthy. It smells like one of those outdoor gardens at a Walmart; oddly comforting at the same time uncomfortable. The shop is quite small from what he can see, but it also looks really large with the amount of plants and flowers there are. Where he's standing, he can't see the front desk, but instead, he can see a shelf full of gorgeous multi-colored roses. Red, pink, white, blue. The blue ones have him stopping in his track.

Ana will love those. He doesn't even know her favorite color, he just knows she'll love these. 

Stepping forward, Lance tucks his phone into his back pocket and reaches forward, picking up the bouquet of blue roses. He smiles to himself, inhaling the sweet yet dull scent of the roses and, from there, slipping around the shelf and weeding his way through a couple other shelves of flowers until he reaches the front desk. 

The shop is quiet. Somewhere in the back, one of those mini battery powered waterfalls is trickling softly, but on top of it is another sound. Lance isn't too sure what the sound is, but once he looks up to see a dark haired man at the front desk, he knows exactly why.

The man's feet are up on the table, combat boots with metal on the toes and ripped jeans. Tattoos. Lots of them. And last, but not least, a fine stream of smoke. 

The man at the desk in a flower shop is smoking a fucking cigarette. 

"Excuse me," Lance begins, taking a hesitant step towards the desk. The raven's eyes are focused downwards on a playboy magazine that is open in his lap, one hand flipping the pages and the other holding onto his cigarette with two fingers. He doesn't respond.

"Hey. Are you deaf?" Lance pushes, placing the roses on the table and leaning towards the man at the desk.

He's greeted with a finger. Not the middle finger, surprisingly, but a pointer finger. He pauses. A second of silence passes, and then, dark blue-almost-purple eyes meet with his own. 

"Yes?" Says the raven, a pierced eyebrow raising. Very... not enthusiastic. His voice is deep, and it throws Lance off. He wasn't sure what he expected.

"I'm trying to purchase some flowers for a date and the person who's supposed to help me with that is... smoking and reading a playboy magazine on the job." Lance deadpans, mostly talking to himself, but also somewhat speaking to the guy who... honestly looks like he could kick Lance's ass. He probably could. 

Maybe he shouldn't have spoken. 

Tattoo's eyes squint. He slaps his magazine shut. Moves his feet from the counter and drops them to the floor with a thud.

"Yeah. You have a problem with that?" Tattoo asks. Although his words are smooth, there's an ice to his voice that makes it clear to Lance that he has officially pissed him off. With a singular statement. Okay.

"Look, man. I'm really not trying to start a fight here, but you probably shouldn't be smoking around plants, and on the job. What's your boss gonna say? I mean, it's not really my business, but seriously..." He trails off, blinking a couple times. He can't tell if it's fear or something else that the look on the tattooed mans face is giving him and the fact that he doesn't know what he's feeling scares him the most. 

"Does it look like I give a flying fuck?" Tattoo asks, his hands landing on the counter to lift himself off of his chair. He has a whole two inches on Lance which makes him officially intimidated. 

"Yes. It looks like you care a lot. About what I'm saying, which is right. You should put out that cigarette. Just saying." 

Silence. Then a fucking growl from the dark haired cashier. 

"Stop fucking talking or I'll make you stop." 

"Aight, bet." Lance retorts, crossing his arms.

The roses seem to physically be disappointed in the two idiots quarreling over something so fucking stupid.

Behind the cashier, a door slides open just a smidge and a pair of blue eyes peek out at them. Then they're gone and the door is shut again. Tattoo doesn't budge, instead continuing to babble on to Lance about how he should shut the fuck up and mind his own business.

Lance doesn't even have time to inhale before the door is slid open again and a man a whole five inches taller than the fucking idiots combined walks out. Not a sound leaves his lips as he snatches the cigarette from the cashier's hand and puts it out on the playboy magazine laying upon the counter without hesitation.

"I swear to god, you need to be more responsible, Keith." Says the man. He doesn't seem to notice Lance standing there right away, but after he chucks the cigarette in a hidden trash bin beneath the desk, his eyes brighten when he looks up at Lance.

"Hey! I'm so sorry about this. He's uh.. a little rebellious." He says. The cashier, aka Keith, is sitting again, so the taller man grabs the back of the chair and swiftly shoves it to the side. Keith barely flinches. He's used to this. 

"Dude, you're not going to fire him?" Lance questions the man. He has silver hair pulled back into a loose man bun, the sides of his head shaved and black. Lance assumes that's his natural hair color. His eyes are a grey blue, though mostly grey, and his eyeliner (YES. eyeliner. it looks fucking amazing on him.) is on fire. 

"Nah. He's my brother. Can't do that to his worthless ass-"

"I heard that!!" Keith shouts from where his chair rolled to; the corner.

His brother ignores him. "Anyway, yeah. Sorry. Let me get this rung up for you, aight?" He says calmly, smiling and nodding towards the blue roses. "My name is Takashi Shiro by the way. Just call me Shiro, though."

Lance just nods, thankful for someone nice in this flower shop for once even though he's only been in here for like- oh. Fuck. 

FUCK.

Lance's eyes widen and Shiro immediately looks concerned, his own soft eyes widening, "You good?" He asks.

"Fuck!" Lance practically screeches. His voice breaks when he speaks and his hands fly into the air, one flailing for his phone and the other snatching his wallet from the other pocket. He whips out a twenty, slams it on the counter, click his phone screen on, screeches again-although quietly this time-and grabs the flowers all without taking a breath of air.

"I'm late. I'm fucking late, oh my god. I have to go. Thank you, Shiro, holy fuck, but I gotta go. Keep the change." Lance mumbles, words tripping over themselves and one another along with his tongue. He only gives Keith a glare, though, and spins around, darting back out of the shop. Shiro watches with an astonished expression on his face as Lance nearly slams both his face and another person's into the glass when he flings the door open hastily. It earns a chuckle from the silver-haired man and a sneer from Keith. 

"I literally hope I never see that ass ever again." Keith grumbles.

"Shut up, Keith. He was just trying to get flowers for a date, from the looks of it. Let a man be."

-

Lance is out of breath and the blue roses are missing a few petals by the time he bursts through the front doors of the Rainforest Cafe. He's now ten minutes and thirty five seconds late. He counted. He literally counted. Why the fuck did he stall before leaving his apartment? None of this would have ever happened in the first place.

The restaurant is crowded for the afternoon, people every which way. In the middle of the room, there's actual rain flowing from the ceiling into a pool filled with fake-or real, he literally has no clue-plants surrounding it and a fake alligator growling from the center of the pool. He's also never set foot in this restaurant before, but he's now thanking the gods that Ana chose this place and not some fancy restaurant that requires you to make fucking reservations. That's what he chose for their first date. It was a big mistake, but he and Ana ended up leaving early because the food sucked ass and walked the streets at 9 pm instead.

A waitress with too dark of red lipstick on walks up to him then, a very bored expression on her face, "Welcome to the Rainforest Cafe. May I have your name and how many people are with you today?" She drones on, yawning after finishing her greeting. 

"Uh, actually, I'm here for my date. Ana Cambridge.. She should be here already. Can you show me to where she's sitting? Please?" Lance croaks awkwardly. 

"Oh, so you're the guy she mentioned. Yikes. Alright. Follow me." She practically rolls her eyes. What the fuck does that mean? Jesus, lady. Way to give a man an anxiety attack.

Instead, though, he follows her through the restaurant, weaving through other waiters and waitresses, random little kids running around and screaming at the animatronics making various animal noises. 

When she stops in front of a two seated booth, he quietly thanks her and slides in across from Ana.

She doesn't seem to notice him right away, but when she does, she smiles. It makes Lance's heart jump.

"I thought I was getting stood up," She begins. Her voice is soft, and it floods Lance with a happiness he can't conceal.

"Wrong," Lance replies, "I just... couldn't find the flower shop and kinda got into a quarrel with a dude named Keith. Christ, he was an ass." He shakes his head in disappointment at the memory, sighing. Doing so gets a giggle from Ana and he feels his cheeks flood with heat.

"Here," he says quietly, passing the bouquet of roses over the table to Ana, "I thought you'd like them." 

The night goes on normally from then on, and when they decide to leave after eating their meals and being an idiot couple, Ana plants a kiss on his cheek and walks herself home after insisting on walking Lance home. 

And so Lance enters his apartment with the biggest smile on his face and the brightest splash of red tickling his cheeks. 

He pulls out his phone once he closes his door and opens his text messages with Hunk, who is currently at work.

**hunk i think i love this girl**

_ lance, seriously? You .. you met her two months ago _

**you don't think that's long enough to fall head over fuckin heels for someone? cmon, buddy. the name's lance. don't underestimate my falling-in-love-too-fast skills**

_ i'm not, i'm just.. _

**what**

_ i'm scared something like last time is going to happen again. i don't want to see you go through that kind of pain again _

Last time. When Lance knocked on Hunk's apartment door at two in the morning, sobbing his eyes out because a girl he was with for six whole months dumped him. 

_ "You're too much, Lance. You're always so fucking anxious and scared about nothing. You judge shit way too fast and I don't know what to do with you anymore. I love you but I can't deal with your bullshit. I'm not sorry." _

Yeah. That shit hurt.

Lance huffs out a sigh, looking back down at his phone and typing out a response to Hunk;

**it won't be like that this time. i can tell she feels the same way i do one hundred percent**

Hunk responds in less than two minutes later;

_ are you sure? _

**i'm always sure.**

-

It's late. It's late but Keith is still up, staring at the ceiling and inhaling smoke from a blunt, his own and Nick's.

Nick is a childhood friend of his. The two of them met in middle school because Keith punched him instead of the kid he was meaning to punch. He still doesn't know why Nick ever decided to forgive him for giving him a black eye and a bloody nose that one day.

"Yo," Nick murmurs from Keith's left, "You ever wonder why men have nipples?" He asks aloud. Keith isn't sure if he's asking the void or if he's asking Shiro. Is Shiro even here? Keith has no fucking clue. He answers Nick's question anyways.

"Yeah, dumbfuck. 's because I know why. All humans start out female in the womb, idiot." Keith responds. His voice is low, but relaxed. He doesn't even sound angry for once. "I may be more of an idiot than you are, but I'm not so dumb where I don't know that." 

"Ohhh. Right. That makes sense. Thanks." Nick mumbles. He doesn't say anything more after that and Keith is left to his thoughts and assumes that Nick has finally fallen asleep. 

Without warning, although, Keith thinks back to the incident at the flower shop earlier that day. He thinks about the fact that he was angry at that customer for no reason, though he'd never admit it aloud. The guy was pretty attractive if he were to be honest with himself. Too bad Keith just had to be in a shitty mood and the guy had to have a date. Not that Keith would hit on him or anything. Just that he would probably think about it. 

The longer he thinks about the customer, the more his face pops up in his mind. Like expected, really, but.. there's something about the face that seems familiar. Tan skin, bright blue eyes, freckles. A charming smile. Keith rolls his eyes, shaking his head lightly and rolling onto his side.

He's laying on the floor, a pillow and a thick comforter underneath him. There's a lamp on across the room and he really wants to turn it off, but fuck, he's lazy. So instead, he reaches up to the coffee table next to him and places what's left of the blunt in the ashtray. When he lays back down, his eyes are closed before his head even hits the pillow and the customer's face from earlier that day fills his mind once again. 

-

Just as Lance is closing his eyes after spamming Hunk with his reactions to American Idol contestants for three hours, his thoughts fall back upon the Keith guy. From the flower shop. The asshole with the fucking tattoos and the pretty eyes. Jesus Christ.

His room is dark now, all except for the occasional flash of light swiping across the walls from passing cars outside. It's raining, too, and the pitter pattering is so soothing. If it weren't for Lance's mind driving him insane and bringing him back to the Keith incident, he'd be fast asleep by now. But no, his brain isn't being very simple for him at all. 

Something about the tattooed asshole has him conflicted, confused and frustrated all at once. He wants to go back and set the man straight, but he also wants to know why the fuck his face looks so familiar. The dark eyes and the long black hair is something a lot of people have, but Keith's facial features are familiar. Lance fucking hates it. Who is he? Why is he so mad? Why does he work at a fucking flower shop and smoke at the same time? Don't flower shop workers respect the environment?? Fucking hell. He doesn't know. Not at all. 

Time passes, thoughts fly, and eventually, Lance's eyelids fall heavy. The rain lulls him, and he falls asleep still thinking about who the fuck this Keith guy is and why he looks so familiar.

-

Things just get worse. Lance's relationship with Ana grows, but his fixation with Keith grows twice as much. He visits the flower shop four more times in the span of two months after that, but each time, Keith isn't there. In his place is a blue eyed girl with straight, fluffy blonde hair and a sickeningly cheerful attitude. Every fucking time. It just drives Lance even more insane.

October falls around and Lance becomes busier with every single day. Finals are coming up, and he's seeing Ana less and less. He attempts to ask her out on a date to the pumpkin patch, but she declines, claiming that she's "busy." He doesn't ask any questions.

It's almost unexpected when she calls him at one in the morning on a Thursday. She sounds exhausted, almost like she's been crying, or studying for the last twenty four hours. It fills Lance's tired mind with dread when she begins talking,

_ "Lance? Hey.. sorry. I know it's late. I just," _ pause, _ "I couldn't wait til tomorrow to talk to you about this. I don't even think I'd be able to tell you to your face, anyways." _

Lance just inhales softly. It's enough for Ana to continue talking, knowing that he was still on the other end of the line.

_ "I'm moving to New York. This weekend. I was accepted into NYU, Lance. I've been meaning to tell you for a while now, but I couldn't find the words. I'm sorry. I hope you forgive me for waiting so long to let you know." _

He isn't sure how to reply. He focuses on his breathing, listening as his heartbeat picks up its pace and begins pounding against his eardrums. He can't tell what he's feeling. Again. 

"I, uh.. don't really know what to say," Lance begins slowly, his voice coated with sleep, "I..." he pauses again, closing his eyes and rubbing at them with his free hand, "It's okay." He says eventually. 

_ "Are you sure, Lance?" _

"I'm sure. It's okay. I love you, Ana and I support every choice you make as long as it's good for you, alright? If you... if this means we need to split up, then I respect that. Just know, I'll always love you."

_ "I... thank you, Lance. I'm sorry to call you so late. Goodnight." _

The line goes silent. Lance doesn't move until the beep, beep, beep sound fills his ear. Then, and only then, does he pull the phone from his ear. His thumb presses the power button on the side of his phone.

So.

Hunk was right after all.

-

October is slow after that. The days go by slower than molasses dripping from a spoon in the dead of winter. When Halloween finally comes around, Lance stays in. He ignores every knock at his door from trick-or-treaters or random teenagers pulling pranks on strangers. Hunk is texting him, asking where he's at. He ignores the texts for the longest time, sitting and staring at the TV in which Halloween Wars was playing on instead of staring at his phone. Though, as the episode ends, and the credits start rolling, he glances to his left at his phone. It takes him a long moment before he reaches to pick it up. 

**10 unread messages from Hunkle Bear**

Shit, okay. 

He unlocks his phone carefully, clicking on the notifications and scrolling through the messages,

8:30 -_ Lance!!! Where are you?? You said you'd come!! _

8:38 -_ Lanceeee. I swearto god I'll come and drag your ass here. Please come. _

8:50 -_ okay, lance. don't come, i guess. wasn't like i was totally waiting to have the best halloween party ever with the light of my life (no homo) _

8:52 - _ wait that sounded harsh i'm sorry please answer me. you dont have to come if you really dont want to _

9:05 - _ SHAY IS HERE _

9:05 - _ ABORT MISSION. ABORT ABORT. I'M GONNA CRY _

9:07 -_ SHE SAW ME. SHE'S COMING OVER TO ME WHAT THE FLIPPING HECK LANCE HELP PLEASE ANSWER ME _

9:09 -_ okay wait she,,, we're talking now. she's asking me something hold up _

9:30 -_ i. was dragged to dance. i can no longer breathe, and i don't know if it's because of how beautiful shay is or if it's because she got me to DANCE dance. i gavent danced like that in y EARS _

10:16 -_ she kissed me. that's. that's all i have to say. i think im drunk now, i odnt know na ymore uh oh hhfbgn jrnkgblrg _

Well, damn. That was... wild. Lance sits there for a moment longer, chuckling at the messages and Hunk's panicking. He contemplates if he wants to get his ass up and head to the party, but shakes his head to himself. He has a different idea. 

**holy shit, sorry man. i was totally distracted by halloween wars. there was a marathon and i guess i lost track of time. **

pause

**i'm not going now, but i hope you and shay get it the hell ON lmao. y'all would be such a cute couple no cap**

He leaves it there, nodding to himself and clicking the power off button.

-

LA is weird at night, but also strangely nice. Minus the creeps down the alleyways dealing drugs and... doing other unimaginable things with either themselves or someone else. 

Lance is bundled up in a two sweatshirts, because apparently it's also super fucking cold at night in LA- especially in October, nearly November. The traffic is barely any different than it is during the day and the amount of horns honking left and right is nearly the same as it is at two in the afternoon. 

Ever since he moved here, he's obviously gotten more used to the layout of the city and where everything is located. He's gotten to know where the grocery stores are, where the most drug deals happen every night (not that he has anything to do with them, though), and where the most tourists go for absolutely no apparent reason. That he can see, at least. But what he's paid attention the most to, is where the bars are. There's one bar that he's been to at least a few times, and so far, it's his favorite of them all. The music is great, the people are okay and attractive, and the bartenders are all pretty nice. Talkative, too, which makes it better for him to talk to them when he needs it and to make friends. All he has right now is Hunk, and as good as that can be, it's not always enough.

Lance pulls his hands from his pockets once he looks up to see the LED "OPEN" sign in the window of the bar, nodding casually at the bouncer standing outside the front door and making his way through the door. 

For once, it doesn't throw him off with the change in atmosphere. The semi-quiet night immediately explodes into loud music and hundreds of voices overlapping each other. It's comforting in a way. 

He heads straight to the bar table, climbing up onto the first empty stool that he spots and crossing his arms across the counter. He waits until a bartender arrives, but before one even walks up to him, he feels the presence of someone else appearing to his right. 

He glances to the side, eyes glazing over a ponytail of black hair, a sharp jawline, and bare shoulders full of tattoos. His eyes settle back on the counter for just a split second before they dart back to the right. 

What the FUCK. That's him! Keith. The asshole from the fucking flower shop!!

Lance stays still. He doesn't say a word and definitely doesn't look back over at the raven next to him. Or... he tries not to. The very second the bartender arrives to take his order, he literally just slams his hand onto the counter and asks for the strongest beverage they've got. He swears he hears a scoff from his right and it drives him even more insane. 

While he waits for his drink, he pulls out his phone. Hunk hasn't texted back so that either means he's actually getting it on with Shay or that he's passed out drunk because he's the biggest lightweight to exist and everyone knows it. He hesitates to text him again, because he knows he won't receive an answer until morning, but he goes ahead and does it anyway.

**that tattoo dickwad is next to me right now. i decided to go to the bar (sorry,,) and BOOM there he fucking is the second i sit down. i think im gonna lose my shit**

He shuts his screen off again, tucks his phone into his hoodie pocket, lifts his head, glances to the side, and immediately he is greeted with dark eyes staring into his own.

As a reaction, he fucking jumps, and Keith blinks as his own super late reaction to being caught staring.

"Hey...?" Lance croaks, "You, uh.. you good?" 

It takes a moment for the raven to even process what Lance is saying, and eventually, he replies with a monotonous, "Yeah. 'm fine." 

"Okay.." Lance replies, swallowing the excess saliva in his mouth and turning back to face the counter. A glass is sitting in front of him now and he gladly slides it towards himself and takes a sip from it. He doesn't need anymore weird shit happening tonight.

He keeps the glass to his lips, cringing with every sip at whatever it is he was given, but nonetheless, continuing to take tiny sips every two seconds. 

He wants to glance over at Keith. He wants to glance over at Keith. He wants to glance over at Keith.

He glances over at Keith and is once again greeted with those dark eyes staring straight at him. Keith is first to speak this time even though Lance's lips move as if he's about to ask what the fuck Keith's problem is.

"Fuck, sorry. I just. Jesus I sound like a fucking dumbass." Keith spits, his words rushing out faster than either of them expected. "Like, I just. Shit. Look, you just look super fucking familiar." 

This is what really throws Lance off guard. He blinks a couple times, setting his glass back down on the counter and slowly turning his top half to properly look Keith in the eye.

"Pardon?" He squeaks, which is not what he wanted to fucking sound like but okay. Keith just shakes his head, a hand moving to rub at his forehead. Right smack dab in the middle of his bicep is a tattoo of a symbol that looks like a V but spread out and somewhat fancier. It's red, outlined in black. It sparks recognition, but he can't tell why. 

"I'm sorry, maybe I'm thinking of someone else. I probably am." Keith answers for himself, shaking his head one more fucking time.

It only takes Lance a moment of silence between the two for him to find a response,

"You look familiar too, honestly. I just don't know why." He says slowly, grabbing his glass from the counter and picking it back up to take a quick swig from it.

"Wait, you serious? This isn't one-sided?" Keith sputters, turning back to Lance, "What's your name?" 

For once Keith doesn't apologize for being idiotically nosey for approximately no fucking reason, and Lance falters for a second. 

"Lance. Lance McClain. And you're Keith." The salt still remaining in his chest rings within his voice, "I remember from the fuckin flower shop. Your brother will forever be nicer than you, to be fully honest." He mutters, rolling his eyes. It's supposed to be more sarcasm than anything, but Keith seems to take it seriously. His cheeks take on a light pink and his eyes dart to the side. Almost like he's embarrassed.

"Uhh, yeah. I'm sorry about that. I have no fuckin excuse for my behavior that day. By the way, I hope your date that day went well." Keith tries to sound at least somewhat genuine, smiling awkwardly. He's not sure how to handle this.

Lance is honestly just confused. This is the first time Keith has sounded even remotely nice since the last time they even interacted even though that was literally at the flower shop. 

He's about to respond when Keith speaks again, "Wait. Did you just say Lance. McClain? Fucking Lance McClain? I- I'm hearing you right, right?" 

Lance's confusion doubles by twenty fucking levels each time Keith says something. 

"Yes... I said that. I'm Lance. Lance McClain." 

"Holy shit." Keith replies right away. “Lance…” 

Lance stares at him. His eyebrows complete the look of confusion sprawled across his face by furrowing. The wrinkles in his forehead protrude. He’s trying really hard to understand, but he can’t. He doesn’t understand the sudden softness in Keith’s face and voice. 

Lance doesn’t get it. But Keith remembers every last bit of it.

Third grade. Etching their names into the underside of a desk in their classroom during recess while everyone else was outside. Playing in the snow together and completely obliterating each other in snowball fights. Laughing and gossiping about the girl with the buck teeth and braces who no one liked for no god damned reason. Saying goodbye to one another on the last day of school before summer vacation; not expecting the other to move halfway across the country and to never fucking return. The thought hurts. Like a cramp in the sole of his foot, but this time it’s in his chest. 

Keith’s eyebrows furrow, and he shakes his head. 

“You don’t remember. It’s okay.”

Lance’s nose scrunches, and his lips upturn in an unintentional grimace. “I don’t remember what? Dude, the only memories I have of you are you being a total ass!” 

“I told you I was sorry about that!” Keith retorts, expression changing into a disappointed frown mixed with a look of irritation. He didn’t remember Lance to be so petty. 

“Then why were you- y’know what, it doesn’t matter. I don’t know why you look so familiar and I don’t care. Not now. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Fuck.” Lance’s head feels fuzzy and his words feel like jelly. He’s always been a lightweight. 

Keith stares at Lance, his lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. He opens his mouth to speak, but Lance isn’t looking at him, and he decides that he has no reason to fight. If lance doesn’t remember, so fucking be it.

“Okay.” Keith states, shaking his head and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He stands up, reaches down the bar, grabs a napkin from the napkin holder, and calls the bartender over.

“Do you have a pen I can borrow?” He asks the bartender. Lance peeks over at him as he hears that, still confused as ever. He watches as said bartender nods silently and slides a pen over to Keith from his pocket. Keith nods back as a _ ‘thanks.’ _ He starts scribbling on the napkin, hunching over and using his fingers to flatten out the napkin so it wouldn’t rip so easily with the tip of the pen. When he finishes, he folds it over, places the pen back on the counter, and turns back to Lance. 

The brunet just continues his confused stare at the raven, eyebrows still furrowed and blue eyes penetrating Keith’s dark, blue-almost-purple eyes. Keith moves the folded over napkin in Lance’s direction, and hesitates. He’s not so sure why. Then he sets it down, slides it towards Lance with two fingers, and turns away. He walks out of the bar as swiftly as he had sat down just twenty minutes ago. It leaves Lance sitting there, eyes flitting between the folded napkin, and the back of Keith’s head until he disappears from view entirely.

Lance remains sitting in total shock and complete confusion. He bites his lip, chews on the inside of his cheek, and then snatches the napkin from the table. Before he even bothers to open it, he pulls a five dollar bill from his pocket and sets it on the counter. 

“Leaving so soon?” the bartender asks while drying a glass with a rag. 

“Yeah. I’ve got some figuring out to do. Remembering, maybe.” Lance replies, shaking his head to himself. The bartender smiles softly, taking the five from the counter.

“That is entirely understandable. Go on, pal.” he says, shaking out the rag he was using to dry the glass. 

Lance just chuckles, nodding once more, and then dropping down from the barstool and maneuvering his way out of the bar.

-

The walk home is twice as terrifying as it was on the way there. It’s darker, quieter, and the alleyways are more ominous than ever. Lance is grateful that he lives so nearby. And the air smells like fucking french fries so he’s also grateful about living close because that means escaping that stench and stepping back into the comfort of ocean scented air freshener. 

Though, when unlocking the front door of his apartment, and walking in, the only thing he feels is exhausted and a dull sense of dread at the pit of his stomach. Keith being weird, Ana wordlessly breaking off their relationship, Hunk fucking around at that party and probably feeling extremely pissed at Lance for standing him up.

Oh. And the napkin.

He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out the folded napkin and peering down at it in his hands. He purses his lips, but then unfolds it. 

Keith’s handwriting is nicer than Lance would’ve let on. It’s smooth, and a mixture between casual print, and cursive. What he wrote gives off an entirely different vibe than the handwriting itself, and for a moment, his doubt about Keith falters.

_ ‘I’m sorry for being an asshole at the flower shop. it wasn’t cool of me, and i had no right to treat you like that. and for the record… i’ve been trying to lay off smoking ever since. kinda. weed doesn’t count. but anyway, lance, it kinda feels like shit that you don’t remember what i do… but. i dont have space to keep writing. just … text me’ _

Below the note is his phone number, written smaller than the rest considering the lack of space. 

Lance isn’t sure how to react. He swallows the odd lump at the back of his throat, inhales sharply, and exhales with a long breath. 

The TV is still playing from before he left for the bar, and as he walks through the house and settles upon the couch, a rerun of halloween wars from last year is pouring from the speakers. The volume is on low, and it gives Lance a sense of uncomfortable comfort. It’s not easy to explain. It really isn’t.

He doesn’t want to text Keith. Not yet. He gets back up, sprinting across the room and pulling open his junk drawer in the kitchen. It is an absolute _ mess. _But he doesn’t care, because his apartment is even more of a mess. He’s distraught and upset and everything, including himself, is a goddamn mess. He stuffs the napkin from Keith in the drawer, slams it shut, and then turns around. 

Cleaning has always been his go-to when he’s feeling like a total fuckup. So that is exactly what he begins to do. 

He switches the TV over to his PS4, opens the Spotify application, connects his phone, and begins blaring the one and only Shakira. Beyonce is next. This is like a _ ritual _ for him. The PS4 is completely useless other than Spotify because he has _ literally no video games yet. _

The entire living room is spotless within half an hour. Candy wrappers, one slice pizza trays from the local gas station, empty bottles of bai coconut water, coca cola cans, and more water bottles than he can count- all of that is _ gone. _ A big trash bag sits in the corner, full of said items. The kitchen is worse. Pizza boxes that mostly consist of smaller boxes for garlic knots are everywhere. Why the fuck is that the only thing he eats? He couldn’t answer that question. He literally doesn’t fucking know. 

Usually, his apartment isn’t this messy. Usually. For the most part it hasn't been, but the last few weeks has been an exception. He has been depressed out of his mind. He would rather be a 13 year old at home on a day such as today and tricking the neighbors into giving him more candy instead of trying to get over his own confusing ass life problems and obstacles. Like Keith. 

Who the hell is he? Why is he so _ angry? _ What does he want Lance to remember so badly?? He is a living, moving obstacle and it is driving Lance off his rockers. Why does a gorgeous, tall, tattooed bastard get to distract him like this? Holy fuck. 

The music playing from the TV is no longer in his focus. It’s white noise as his brain centers around Keith and shoving all the trash in the kitchen into one big bag. He doesn’t feel like leaving the building to throw the trash out, so he ties the bag off, stuffs it in the corner, and flops down upon the couch.

Hunk won’t be back tonight. He already knows that. 

“Time to be absolutely fucking lonely,” He mutters to himself, sighing heavily and pausing Spotify with the controller. When he picks his phone back up, there’s one message from Hunk. Though, it wasn’t written by Hunk.

_ hunk won’t be back tonight, but i will be absolutely sure to send him back home tomorrow! just letting you know just in case you got worried - Shay _

As if Lance didn’t know that already. He replies anyway.

**that’s cool. Let him know i said sweet dreams <3**

_ will do :) _

Lance just sighs again. He shuts his phone off, closes his eyes, and leans his head back against the couch cushions. It’s the most comfortable he’s been in days, and it still sucks.

-

Keith had to take a bus, _ and _ the subway to get home. He didn’t take his car because he originally thought he was going to drink, and then maybe possibly go home with someone that he would regret going home with the next day. But of course that didn’t happen, because instead of that-which he would’ve preferred 1000%- Lance fucking McClain had to interrupt what could’ve been a better day than a day full of stress and anxiety. Oh, and an incredible amount of _ frustration _. 

He doesn’t remember! How the fuck doesn’t _ Lance _ , the _ VERY _ one who approached Keith in the first place, not remember? How did he not remember making Keith the happiest little kid in the world by making him feel loved and _ normal _, even after the death of his parents? Those times were the worst times in his life, and then Lance shoved his way into the picture, and befriended Keith despite his hostility and aggressiveness. Keith remembers so vividly trying to shove Lance away both physically and emotionally. He remembers trying so hard to refuse Lance’s friendship. He remembers Lance refusing his refusal and slowly but surely becoming closer and closer to Keith. 

Keith let Lance into his heart, even after everything. Even after Shiro had to become an 18 year old brother as a father, and work three jobs all at the same exact time, which, even then, barely held up _ anything _ for the two of them. Keith let Lance know about all of those things. Yet Lance held on, and Keith no longer felt alone. All until Lance moved, and they never fucking saw each other again.

Shiro is sitting on the couch when Keith walks up the stairs. They live above the flower shop, in a small, cramped… whatever you wanna call it. There’s four rooms; the living room, the bathroom, one bedroom, and the kitchen. They only own a couch, a TV and one bed in the bedroom as far as furniture. There isn’t even a coffee table in the living room, because the couch unfolds to become a bed for Shiro and therefore takes up all the remaining space. And of course the kitchen has everything a kitchen needs. 

“You’re back early.” Shiro says from the couch without even looking back at Keith. 

“Yeah, got pissed at someone and decided to walk away. There isn’t any reason to fight if they don’t even remember in the first place.” Keith mutters in response. His voice lowered as he finished what he had to say, and the last sentence was more of a mumble under his breath than anything. Still, though, Shiro managed to hear it with his annoying ass fatherly hearing skills. 

“Well, to start, that’s a first. Who’s this someone you’re talking about? You sound pretty mad.” he says calmly, turning from the TV to look at Keith this time.

Keith’s nose scrunches up, and he crosses his arms over his chest, one hand moving to rub at the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“Do you remember when I was in third grade?” Keith asks Shiro, not bothering to look at his brother.

“Uh.. yeah. Why?” Shiro replies, one eyebrow raising in interest mixed with concern.

“Do you remember Lance? Lance McClain? He was really close to me in third grade. My only friend… aside from his own best friend Hank… or whatever the hell his name is.” Keith shakes his head, sighing and crossing the room to sit next to Shiro on the couch. His arms relax by his sides, and he leans back.

“Ohh, yeah. I definitely remember that. You were one happy camper that year. What about him, though?” 

“That was who I got so pissed at that one day. The guy with the bright blue eyes and the freckles who was late for his date. I saw him again today.” Keith explained. He still doesn’t bother to look at Shiro. 

“Wait, really? Damn. Why’d you get mad at him?” Shiro’s voice is coated in exhaustion. It’s clear he isn’t sure how to handle this, but is still trying to help Keith out.

“It was like- I realized who he was, asked him what his name was, and then he didn’t remember. Anything. I knew with the tone of his voice and the way he looked at me like I’m insane,” Keith spilled, pushing his bangs back, then deciding to pull his hair out of its ponytail entirely. “And he’s still petty about the day he came to buy flowers.”

“I think he came around three times after that… or something like that. Romelle kept telling me about a tall skinny kid with blue eyes and freckles.” Shiro shrugs. Keith’s face just contorts into an expression of frustration x20. He looks at Shiro, then, but Shiro just smiles and shrugs again.

“I gave him my phone number and wrote an apology note along with it, but I haven’t received anything yet. I just… I don’t know why it matters to me so much.” Keith continues, running his hands through his hair cringing as his fingers run into painful knots. 

He hears Shiro sighing from beside him, and he looks back over at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“He was your best friend, Keith. You never got closure from him because he moved away without a word. That’s why it matters so much to you. He’ll come around and get his head out of his ass as long as you’re patient about it.” Shiro says calmly. Keith stares into Shiro’s eyes, and then looks away. “Patience yields focus- and, in this case, communication.” 

“Right. Patience yields focus.” Keith repeats, nodding. “Okay. I’ll just… I’m gonna go to bed. I’m sorry for bothering you like always.” 

Shiro shakes his head, frowning. “You’re my brother, Keith. I’m here for you now and always. It doesn’t bother me, okay? So, go get yourself an actual good night's sleep.” 

Keith inhales like he’s about to say something, but then he stands up instead, sliding his hair tie onto his wrist. “Okay. Goodnight.” He says, voice monotonous. 

Shiro can barely say his own ‘goodnight’ before Keith’s door is shut behind him. 

When Keith crawls into bed after he shuts the lights off, he grabs his phone from the ground. It was charging while he was gone, and displayed on the screen when he clicks it on is a few couple messages from Pidge.

Her response from a few hours ago before Keith headed out:

_ 10:00 - cool. it would be unfortunate of you if you died. so don’t. _

And then two more beneath that, both half an hour later:

_ did you not bring your phone? dude. you were supposed to fill me in on the deets _

_ damnit _

Keith laughs at that, typing out his response. Pidge’s speech bubble pops up two seconds later and Keith laughs even harder at that.

**i thought i told you my phone was dying. i left it to charge**

_ ohh. you never said that but okay cool. least you aren’t dead _

_ but you’re back really early. usually you aren’t back until morning when you go to the bar >:/ _

**yeah. about that.**

_ uh oh. spill the tea, sis _

**stop**

_ lmao _

**i saw the guy from the flower shop. the one i told you about that got mad at me for smoking… so i threw him an attitude??? Yeaah uhhhhhhhh**

_ spit it out, dumbfuck _

**i asked what his name is and he’s lance fucking mcclain. he was my best friend in THIRD GRADE**

_ wait what the fuck. did he recognize you??? _

**no.**

_ that’s so not fair. and you remember everything? _

**correct. also, he’s still pissed about that day. i gave him my phone number.. just in case.**

_ keith, buddy, you realize how suggestive that could come off as, right? _

**what? no. i gave him the number along with an apology note. on a napkin.**

_ even worse _

**how?!**

_ nvm. carry on _

**i just. in third grade, he was my only friend, and then he moved away with no warning. and now he’s back and i don’t know how or why and it’s driving me insane because i cant get his pretty fucking face out of my head**

_ keith. give him time. he’ll text you or even call you when he feels like it, and if he doesn’t? so be it. his loss on regaining a good friend. _

_ \- _

Keith never gets a call, or even a text. Not once does his brain ease up on the thought that Lance might message him at any moment. Checking his phone almost religiously becomes something normal, and feeling super fucking anxious when he gets a notification along with feeling ridicuously frustrated and disappointed when it’s only a text from either Shiro, Pidge, Allura, or Nick. Everyone keeps telling him that he’ll come around, and that he should be patient, and _ wait. _

It’s just the pain of waiting and the pain of wanting closure that he isn’t sure he’ll even get at this point that’s bothering him so fucking much. 

On a Wednesday, around 2pm at the flower shop, while Keith is upstairs making himself a late lunch that only consists of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a faint jingling sounds from downstairs. 

Shiro is out, and it’s not Romelle’s shift today, so Keith sets down his sandwich, wipes his hands and mouth, and races down the stairs. 

He slides behind the front desk, peering around the one shelf closest to the desk to see if he actually heard a customer walk in or if he was just hallucinating. Thankfully, he sees the back of someone’s head, so he puts on his mostly-fake employee smile. 

“Hi! Welcome to Kogane’s Florals! How may I help you?” He calls to the stranger, adjusting his pink apron and placing the matching pink cap upon his head.

When the stranger turns their head, Keith squints to see their facial features, in hope that it’ll be who he, somewhere deep down, hoped it would be.

And lo fucking behold.

Blue eyes, freckles and teeth too bright to be real awkwardly stare back at him.

“Hey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi y'all. if you've been here since the start, you will probably realize what i changed about this. but if you're new, hello and welcome!! quarantine has given me a lot of spare free time to fix and repost this fanfic that i'm not ready to abandon yet. i really hope y'all enjoy <3 lemme know what you think in the comments or smthn


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith tries to get Lance to remember by showing him a photo of the two of them when they were 8 and 9. When Lance still doesn't remember, Keith feels like there isn't anymore hope. Until Lance messages Keith like he never expected he would, and the two of them get to talking. Lance isn't telling Keith about what happened after the third grade, and Keith isn't opening up to Lance. They're both a hot mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so um. In the first chapter (first version) I wrote that it was Keith who moved away, but I changed it to Lance who moved away because it made more sense with the things I thought about the other day and whatnot. So umm,, yeah. Enjoy, y'all <3 if I forgot something and you have questions, please let me know. So many words make it hard for me to remember small details I might've added earlier on ah ha ha
> 
> EDIT: I deleted the first version of chapter one, and all the apology 'chapters' I put so the chapters wouldn't be messed up. just saying so it's not of any confusion

The room goes silent, the air still. Keith’s heart stops, and then, when it resumes, it’s pounding against his ribcage with a wave of anger. Standing before him is Lance. Because of fucking course he had to walk in  _ now _ of all times after completely ignoring his hopeful attempt at getting the two of them to talk that one day at the bar. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Keith spits, stepping out from behind the front desk and stomping up to Lance. 

Lance moves backwards, clearly intimidated. He seems to snap out of it almost immediately, though, because he stands up straight and crosses his arms. One hand moves to poke Keith in the chest.

“Do  _ not _ start up your asshole tendencies again.” Lance sneers, tucking his hand back underneath his other arm.

“ _ My  _ asshole tendencies?! You’re the fucking one who didn’t take my offer to  _ talk!  _ You’re the one who left me without a fucking warning!” Keith shouts. He didn’t mean to shout, nor did he mean to say the last part, especially so soon. It came out anyway.

Lance falters. His eyes lock with Keith’s. He’d been avoiding eye contact this entire time. But then he speaks again, eyebrows furrowing, “I don’t even know what you’re talking about, but I’m here now, aren’t I? What the hell are  _ you _ so worked up about when it was  _ me _ you snapped at for no fucking reason two months ago?”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut and inhales so fucking sharply that it hurts, but he doesn’t say anything. Not before he squeezes his fingers between Lance’s crossed arms and grasps his wrist. Lance lets out a yelp, but Keith completely ignores it. In a rush to get past the front desk, Keith flips over the ‘we are in the back! please ring the bell’ sign, and then continues to pull Lance through the shop.

He yanks him up the stairs, through the door at the top, and down the hall to his bedroom. Lance is trying to wrench his wrist out from Keith’s grip, but when Keith lets go, he turns to Lance with a look of desperation. He is fucking desperate for Lance to realize what the hell he can’t put into words. 

Although Lance is struggling to find the right words to call Keith a fucking psychopath with the same amount of anger he’s feeling right now, he doesn’t budge and instead stands in place with his fists clenched at his sides.

Keith reaches under his bed, pulls out a laptop, and sits down on his bed so hard the frame rattles, a faint sound of something cracking following shortly after. Lance flinches at it, but Keith doesn’t even react. 

Flipping open the laptop, he lets out a frustrated groan as it takes its precious time to start up. The very moment it opens to its lockscreen, he smashes the enter key and aggressively types in his passcode. When it unlocks, he clicks a few dozen clicks, struggling to use the touchpad to maneuver his way through the device without his wireless mouse. 

Right as Lance is about to turn around and flee, Keith lets out another sound, but this time it’s more of an  _ ‘ah ha!’ _

Lance looks at him, confused. Keith stands up, strides across the room, and moves so he’s standing next to the brunet. Then, he clicks one last time, and an image pops up, filling the screen with a picture of two boys.

“This is what I’m so worked up by.” Keith says, his voice softer than intended. 

The two boys in the picture wear the brightest smiles to exist. One is shorter than the other. His hair is dark, but it’s styled in the ugliest bowl cut to exist. Keith visibly cringes at the memory. The other boy is scrawny, blue eyes brighter than the ocean and blue sky behind them  _ combined _ . The blue eyed one is holding up a crab by its claw, and the dark haired boy is merely smiling, his eyes bright. Not as bright as the blue eyes next to him, but brighter than they are now. Enough that it’s noticeable by anyone who cared to look hard enough. 

Keith can hear Lance’s short, sharp inhale. He has to remember. He has to remember that day, where they ran around, chasing crabs across the beach. They made sand castles, and then Keith kicked Lance's over at one point and Lance tackled him to the ground, and they laughed til their stomachs hurt. Keith remembers everything, all the way down to how it felt to smile so hard his cheeks ached. How it felt to have someone whose mere existence made him happier than anything in the world.

“Keith.” Lance says quietly. He swallows, and eases the laptop from Keith’s arms. Keith doesn’t stop him as he moves to sit down at the end of the bed. So he joins him, softly sitting down beside him. For a moment, he's convinced that Lance genuinely remembers. 

“Do you remember  _ now _ ? This is what I wanted to talk about. This is why, the moment you told me your name, I wanted to apologize so badly.” Keith mumbles. He hunches over, no longer wanting to look at the image, and presses his face into his hands. “I was devastated. When you left.”

Lance has no idea what to say. Keith doesn’t make him say anything.

“I hate… that I- that  _ is _ me. But I- I don’t remember it? Like… um. I have very vague memories, but they’re all fuzzy and I don’t-” Lance stutters, but Keith cuts him off.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. I get it, I really do.” Keith replies. His voice is still soft, but now it’s empty. The hope he had as Lance was studying the picture. He didn’t fucking expect to feel so upset about this and he felt pathetic for it.

Lance doesn’t seem to notice, though, because he’s still fixated on the photo. 

“Did Shiro-” Lance starts again, but Keith sits back up as soon as he speaks, grabbing the laptop from his lap.

“Why did you come here?” Keith asks, shutting the laptop. His voice is low, and now that Lance’s focus is back on him, Lance can tell that he is disappointed. Sad, even. 

“I lost your number.” Lance responds immediately. “I wanted to give you a chance.” 

“A chance. Right. Okay.” 

“I’m not lying! I thought about it for the entire month-” he stops himself, “wait no, that’s a lie. I forgot about it for a week, or something. And then I remembered but I couldn’t find the napkin thing in my junk drawer-”

“You put it in your junk drawer??” Keith wheezes, “What the hell, man.”

“I was pissed! I still kinda am! But I lost it and basically I came here to try and ask you for it again without it seeming like I’m trying to fucking hit on you but then this happened and-”

“Shut up and give me your phone for fucks sake.” Keith snaps, his hand extending as his other hand sets his laptop behind him. Something about the way he said that has Lance chuckling without warning or even personal consent. He kinda smiles to himself as he pulls his phone out of his hoodie pocket. 

Lance hands Keith his phone. Keith pretends he doesn’t see the smirk on Lance’s face as he clicks on the green phone icon, finds the ‘add contact’ button, and types in his phone number. He titles the contact with his name, but as Lance watches him do so, he already knows he’s about to change it the next chance he gets. 

“So you don’t fucking  _ lose _ it again, I’ve saved it to your drive. You are very welcome.” Keith deadpans, handing back Lance’s phone. Lance takes it with a low chuckle, sliding it back into his pocket.

Lance is silent after that. Just for a moment. He takes a long, deep breath. He hates that he can't remember. He hates that he's leaving Keith like this, on a loose end with no questions answered. Sure, Keith was an asshole and the “first” impression he had of the raven was a really bad one, but today was something different. In a way. But he still hates that he doesn't fucking remember being friends with him, let alone why. Well… there is  _ something _ , but he would rather not think about it.

“Cool beans. I’ll head out now. I’m… uh. I’m sorry I don’t remember anything. I just- yeah. Sorry. Have a good day.” Lance says, instead of dwelling on his thoughts for too long. 

Lance leaves the room, walks down the hall, through the kitchen/living room, and back down the stairs into the flower shop. Someone is wandering around, looking at flowers, and Shiro is sitting at the front desk. His resting bitch face is on up until his eyes glaze upon Lance walking out from the back room.

“Hey!” Shiro says all too cheerfully, his words full of instant confusion, “What were you, uh… doing back there?” he asked, standing up slowly. He had some weird feeling that he and Keith were getting at it, but he realizes that that is  _ not  _ the case when Lance responds with a small smile.

“Ah, sorry, Shiro. Keith had to show me something. It wasn’t something bad… if that’s what you were thinking. Sorry for startling you, but I should get going now.” Lance replies, pushing his hands into the pockets on his jeans. 

Shiro has no idea how to react, because from what he remembers, this was the kid that Keith had immediate beef with  _ and _ the kid who Keith was originally friends with in elementary. Having Keith mention that was enough for Shiro to see the resemblance in Lance’s face to the little boy he once knew as his little brother’s best god damn friend. It was weird. Seeing him now, a different yet so not different face and overall appearance from the last time he saw him. It was the eyes and the nose and the hair that he recognized the most, but it was still different even though it actually wasn’t. Maybe he and Keith actually decided to make up.

“That’s… cool. Come back whenever. I think Keith would appreciate it.” 

Lance smiles once more. He leaves without another word, and Shiro remains standing, confused. He decides to leave it as is. It isn’t his problem to butt in on at this point.

-

  
  


“Holy garlic knots.” Lance says aloud, pronouncing the syllables individually, once he shuts the door behind himself as he arrives back at his apartment. Hunk is lounging on the couch, but he looks up as soon as he hears Lance’s voice.

“What? What happened? Did something bad happen? You’re still mad, aren’t you? Oh god, he’s insane and you’re just an innocent soul he’s convinced is part of his life for some reason. Is that it?” Hunk questions all at once, scrambling from the couch to run over to Lance. “Oh speaking of garlic knots I made homemade ones and they’re fresh out of the oven.” Hunk’s lips form an O as if it would convince Lance even more to eat them. 

Lance waves his hand, dismissing Hunk’s rambling, and the garlic knots (just for now. He could barely resist at just the mention). “I got his number again-”

“Woah, what? Dude I thought you guys hated each other.” Hunk responds, taken aback by Lance’s statement.

“We do! I mean… I really don’t know. But he showed me something.” Lance says slowly. “Um… were we friends, him and I, before I moved to Illinois after third grade?” Lance asks. He isn’t looking at Hunk, rather looking down at his phone at Keith’s contact.

“Uh, well. I mean. I remember you being really close to this one kid, but I don’t remember his name. I just know he was shorter than you, has a really traumatic backstory, and his brother is his guardian now- or was. I dunno.” Hunk says, speaking at an abnormal pace. But that was normal. “And then your accident happened-”

“Please don’t mention that.” Lance snaps suddenly, his eyes darting up to meet Hunk’s.

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry. I just- he was really down after you left and he found out the next school year. He threw a fit when the teacher told him you moved. I just… I never approached him.” 

“Well. Newsflash. That was Keith, apparently. Except he’s taller than me now, scary hot, and really rude. And I don’t fucking remember it.” Lance feels bitter now. Not because of Keith, but because of himself. He hates that he can’t remember. He fucking hates that what happened to him had to happen. And, the third thing that he hates is that he knows exactly why he doesn’t remember. He knows he just has to live off of trust, and time if he wants to remember at some point, but this is all… what the fuck? He doesn’t know. It’s a mess. He’s a mess. Like fucking always.

“Gimme those damn garlic knots. I am about to go absolutely insane if I don’t get to stress eat them within the next ten minutes.” Lance says louder than he meant to before Hunk has the chance to respond. He doesn’t try to continue the conversation, though. He just laughs, and turns around to serve them both a plate of his homemade garlic knots. 

  
  


-

  
  


Keith waits another impatient three days for a text or a call from Lance. The entire three days consist of him working his ass off on delivering flowers to houses left and right. He has no fucking clue why this week had to be so god damned busy. Who the hell wants flowers so much, anyway? 

It’s Saturday evening when a message from an unknown number pops up on his screen. He blinks hard, checking to see if he wasn't hallucinating or something. He picks his phone up so fucking fast that when he goes to reply, he stops. He shouldn't reply so fast. It'd be weird. It'd come off as really weird. That is  _ not _ what he wanted. 

The message was short and simple. He already knew it was from Lance, because his name is  _ right _ there, but he still read over it three times to make sure.

  
  


_ hey, it's Lance. sorry for not texting until now. wanna talk? _

  
  


Keith hesitates. Staring at the message for what feels like three minutes, until he opens it, checks the time, and realizes it was indeed only one minute. _ damnit. _

He types out  _ 'yeah…'  _ but then deletes it almost as soon as he clicks the last button.

  
  


**I don't know what to talk about **

  
  


Lance replies within seconds. Maybe Keith replying so soon isn't as weird as he thought it was after all. 

  
  


_ okay, well… um. I don't know, talking over text is weird.  _

  
  


Keith furrows his eyebrows at that. He isn't sure what he's hinting at, but he agrees.

  
  


**yeah **

_ so, maybe we shouldn't text _

**what? you just asked if I wanted to talk **

_ no, dumbass. I'm asking if you want to meet up instead _

  
  


Keith's thumbs hover over his keyboard and he sighs heavily. "Fucking idiot." he mutters to himself. 

  
  


**I can't . not now. I have flowers to deliver**

  
  


that's a lie.

  
  


_ are you serious? it's 7pm _

**shop closes at 10**

  
  


another lie.

  
  


_ that's weird  _

**I know **

  
  


Even though it's through the screen, he can feel the awkward silence between the two. He knows Lance is on the other side, hesitating to type another message, like Keith is doing himself. He doesn't know how to do this. He doesn't know how to properly recreate a friendship between the two. It feels so fucking weird, yet he knows he wants it. Or at least closure. Closure where Lance actually remembers and explains what happened and why he moved away. But God damn, it would be amazing to have that friendship with Lance once again. He would do anything to feel that happiness one more time. He would do anything.

  
  


_ this feels weird _

  
  


Lance's message returns Keith's attention to his phone screen. He'd been staring off, reliving the moments the two of them had. Too little moments, not enough time. The year was long, but shorter when Keith realized Lance wasn't there. He spent the whole summer waiting for a call. He remembered thinking,  _ 'what if I wrote the number wrong? what if he couldn't read my handwriting? what if he lost the paper?' _ and… 

Damn he went through that a second time and he just realizes that. He chuckled to himself, but it's more of a sound of disappointment. Frustration. Something like that. At least this time, Lance actually responded. Instead of disappearing and never coming back and never telling him  _ anything _ . 

  
  


**yeah**

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Lance doesn't reply. Not right away. He has a strong feeling Keith is fibbing about having to fucking  _ deliver flowers  _ at 7pm. So he left it at that. He knows Keith isn't sure how to handle this. But then again, he really doesn't know. Maybe Keith realizes, after Lance had said he didn't remember anything, that there isn't any hope. Or he just feels like that. Lance just doesn't… he doesn't know either. 

An hour passes. Lance can barely focus on his work. His eyes keep glazing over the words, but his brain doesn't process any of it. All he can think about is Keith, and the way he looked at Lance the day he gave him his number once more. The way he was so eager for Lance to remember as he showed him that image. The way the atmosphere in the room changed entirely when Keith picked up on the fact that Lance, in fact, did not remember it. 

Around 8:15, Lance hastily picks up his phone because no matter how hard be tried, his brain refused to focus on his work. 

His room is cold, but he chooses not to turn off the fan that is on rotate on his nightstand. Its white noise helps him focus, except today it's not enough to drown out the thoughts above all else. 

Keith hasn't said anything else, either. 

When he opens their messages, the same awkward feeling floods his mind. He shakes his head, though. He can't believe that he's now determined to make this work, when at the beginning all he wanted to do was set Keith in his place as a  _ florist. _ Not a disrespectful one who sits at the front desk smoking a cigarette. It's so ridiculous that Lance laughs aloud. At himself, and the fact that this is happening. At how Keith is so hung up on something Lance can't remember.

His thumbs continue to hover over the keyboard, and as he begins typing out a message, one hand moves to the top of his head. He threads his fingers through his hair, until the pads of his fingertips run over a large, smooth patch of skin. It's raised above his scalp, and reaches almost all the way to his forehead. He thanks the sea gods that his hair covers it. It's ugly, and crooked, like a thick ass lightning bolt. A scar he never wanted. A scar he hated with a burning passion. It hurts to think about, and sometimes, it still physically hurts to the touch. He always has to be careful with his head because of it. 

  
  


**I’m working on my work for class right now, but I honestly can’t focus.**

  
  


Lance starts. He can practically hear the gears in his own brain struggling to find something to say.

  
  


**The fan is on, and usually it’s enough to drone out my thoughts so I can actually fucking work, but today is an exception I guess. The goddamn deadline is at midnight and I c a n t f o c u s. All I can really think of is how I don’t remember shit about you and I. I went traveling… that summer after 3rd grade, but that’s all I remember.**

  
  


He presses send. He wanted to say more, but he also isn’t sure what else to say. 

He lied there about what he remembered. But he wasn’t prepared to tell Keith everything. He wasn’t prepared for anything. And he wasn’t sure where this was leading in the first place.

Not really expecting an answer from Keith that wasn’t somewhat salty or another fib about why he can’t talk, Lance clicks his phone screen off and spins around in his office chair. 

The only light on in his room is the bright LED desk lamp he has on behind him, illuminating his work, which he literally just turned away from, and a little portion of his bedroom. His bed is shadowed, and it looks  _ very _ comfortable right now, but he stops himself.

_ You have to work, dumbass. Deadline is at midnight! You’ve had all day to work on it, and you’ve been pushing it aside for hours now. Work!!! _

He swears on his life that he was deadass about to return to his work, but then his phone buzzes. Once, and then a second time three seconds later.

  
  


_ try distracting yourself entirely and then getting back into it. If you’re stressing because of something, or even over the fact that the assignment is due at midnight, take a moment to focus on your breathing. _

_ that last part is usually only for anxiety, and I would know that, but… try it. It always works… for me, that is. _

  
  


Lance sits there in silence, reading the messages aloud to himself in a hushed voice. Sometimes it takes a while for him to properly process anything, but as soon as it clicks, he types out a response.

  
  


**not something I thought I’d hear from you lmao**

_ stfu  _

**never. **

_ just try it, Lance _

**… okay**

  
  


Lance turns his phone back off and flips it over so the screen is face-down on his desk. He stares at his laptop screen, and then glances down at the papers sprawled out across the tabletop. He cracks his knuckles, closes his eyes, and centers in on his breathing and heartbeat. 

The sound of his inhaling, and the long exhales- it easily reminds him of the sound of the waves. He hasn’t been to the ocean since the third grade. He hasn’t even tried to visit ever since he moved back. 

The ocean was always his favorite place to go. Even though he, his sisters, and his parents lived in northern california, closer to the mountains, he always remembered the trips they took to the ocean when the weather was nice. They would pack up their minivan with beach balls, towels, sunscreen, snacks and water bottles, and on the way there, they’d play road trip games, even though the trip was only an hour long. The game they played the most was where they shouted out license plates they noticed that weren’t from california, and they would get bonus points if the car was a certain color. Every time, the color choice was different. Every time it was so, so fun. 

Lance remembers a day better than the others. Veronica, his oldest sister, stayed home that day to study for her spring finals, and in her place was a kid he knew he was close with. With the information he has now, he knows it was Keith. But every other day was forgotten, the memories hazy. Sometimes he remembers small things, but it’s never about Keith, or the kid he was once close with. Sure, he had plenty of clear memories with Hunk, but those were all from before and after third grade and the incident. Hunk never moved from their neighborhood, but they stayed in contact, especially with their parents being actual best friends since they were in highschool. Lance remembers that day at the beach with… Keith… almost like it was yesterday. The sun was bright, the sky clear with not a cloud in sight, and the waves were strong. The water was still cold, but the water closest to the shore was warmer with the sun beating down on it. He still remembers the pain of the sunburn he had afterwards. But, holy fuck, it was worth it. He wishes he could go back. Wishes he didn’t have to move to Illinois, even if it meant reuniting with family members he hadn’t seen for years. 

He opens his eyes and returns to reality. He doesn’t want to remember the bad parts of it all. 

Maybe what Keith said wasn’t scientifically proven to help people focus on something, but it worked. Lance put his pen to the paper on his desk, and his fingers to his laptop keyboard, and the assignment was done within an hour and a half. It wasn’t hard in the first place, he just needed to get himself to pay it his full attention. And then he did, and he got it done around 10:00. 

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Keith never sent any more messages after Lance had said okay to his advice. He assumes it helped after a half an hour of sitting, focusing on his own endless thoughts, and no more texts from Lance. Pidge messages him a few times, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he lays back in his bed, sharpening the knife his mother gave him as a kid. He still laughs at why she even gave it to a second grader, but he’s glad he has it now. It’s all he has left of her, and from his dad; a jacket. It was big on him when he first got it, but now it fits perfectly, aside from the fact that the sleeves are always a little too far past his wrists. It’s whatever, though. 

The loss of his parents hit hard. Harder than anything has ever hit Keith, and that includes the punches from James in middle school. Those were rough. But, with his parents dying the way they did,  _ and  _ simultaneously, that hit  _ really _ hard. His father was a firefighter, and his mother was a former air...woman. She was part of the Air Force, but when she found Keith’s father, and came to realize that they wanted to and would make a family together, she quit. Except, according to her stories, it wasn’t easy to just… quit. They wouldn’t allow her to do that. She was indeed let off when she became pregnant with Keith, of course, but when she gave birth, it was until Keith was around three that she officially came home to a normal life with Keith and her husband. As of Keith’s father, he was the firefighter everyone on his crew looked up to. He would always tell Keith the stories of how he would run into burning buildings to save people and animals. He would tell stories of how he would come close to dying on those missions, and then little Keith would get teary-eyed because of it, and he would hold Keith and remind him that he was  _ still there. _ Keith would do anything for his father to tell him that one more time. He would do anything for the fearless man that was once his father to reappear, hug the living shit out of him, and tell him that he’s  _ still here _ , that everything is okay, and that he doesn’t have to worry anymore. 

He remembers how Shiro handled all of it, too. Although he was  _ always _ there for Keith during this time, Keith could tell, even through his anger and his mourning, that Shiro was broken because of it. He hurt, and he hurt, and he fucked himself over because of it. Working two or three jobs or whatever it was, sometimes that wasn’t enough. And he would tell Keith to stay home, lock the doors, and not go outside. To not even peek out the windows to see if Shiro was coming home. Later, when he was in 9th grade, he found out why, and it was because Shiro had  _ the _ brightest ideas to work himself into bad, bad situations. A gang, even. Keith still doesn’t necessarily know exactly what it was, but he does know for sure that he was  _ pissed _ . He was torn between being mad about Shiro running off and causing trouble left and right and leaving little Keith all alone for extended periods of time, or being mad at the fact that Shiro risked his  _ life _ for Keith. For the two of them to survive. Today, and ever since he found out, he would have  _ very  _ much rathered for them to live on the streets and in homeless shelters if it meant them  _ both _ being in jeopardy  _ together _ . 

Keith and Shiro both have their issues. Shiro was silent about it, and still is, but Keith is loud and destructive about it. When people find him being horribly self destructive, and blowing up on people who didn’t do anything wrong, he doesn’t  _ ever  _ say anything. People, including Shiro, ask him if he’s doing constantly, but he never responds. He tells them to fuck off and that he doesn’t want to talk about it. Only rarely is Shiro ever able to convince Keith to talk, and to vent in a much healthier way that doesn’t consist of harming himself in every way possible. Keith internally admits that he is indeed a little shit and really fucking hard to deal with.

The blade of the knife in his hand glints as his phone screen lights up from the left of him. He sighs, turning over and pushing himself up enough to shove the knife back under his pillow where it always stays, just in case. He then picks his phone up, flopping back down onto the bed with a light thud.

The screen turns back on as he lifts it over his head. When he unlocks it, and swipes down the notification panel, he reads that there’s five new messages from Pidge and two new messages from Lance. He doesn’t read Lance’s just yet, and opens Pidge’s first.

  
  


_ 9:30pm - you should tell me more about your knowledge in mechanics because i am really struggling on this project _

_ 9:31pm - I should know more!! I am literally the genius of the class, and i've been TOLD so _

_ 9:39pm - Keiiiiiiith please _

_ 9:42pm - damn I guess you just don’t care _

_ 9:53pm - for your information, because you still have not answered me, i figured it out. thanks for the help ;) _

  
  


Keith, at first, isn’t so sure he should laugh at that, or genuinely feel bad about not answering because he’d deadass been zoning out for like, uh. How long has it been, anyway?? But anyway, from the winky smile at the end, he immediately knew Pidge wasn’t actually mad. Even though she might… yeah, he just doesn’t know. 

He kinda just huffs to himself, and then types out his response.

  
  


**sorry. I was um… zoning out. **

**If you haven’t noticed I do that a lot.**

  
  


He frowns at that, too. Because along with his anger issues and every little self destructive thing he’s ever fucking done, zoning out is another thing that he does. A lot. A lot as in every time he’s trying to have a decent conversation with someone that doesn’t regain a lot of brain power to process. Instead, during situations like that, his brain shuts off, or rather, it focuses on shit he shouldn’t be thinking about. What-if’s, and just… ptsd level shit. And then when whoever is trying to talk to him realizes that he isn’t listening, and they call his name to snap him out of it, he gets really confused and he has to ask them to repeat everything they just said. Sometimes it makes them mad, so they give up on trying to speak, and he goes on feeling like shit. His brain does it without his fucking consent, and it sucks. It sucks whole grain ass.

Pidge doesn’t respond right away, so Keith clicks on the messages from Lance.

  
  


_ gonna be realll honest with you right now _

_ that really helped. like i really don’t know how but i … thought about a day i went to the beach, when i was little. And then i cleared my thoughts, got back to work and bam. It’s finished now, AND on time. So yeah. thanks  _

  
  


Keith doesn’t expect to smile at that message, but he finds his lips curling into a grin as he reads the words on his screen. Lance? Thanking Keith?? Interesting.

  
  


**You’re welcome. You owe me one, now.**

_ no, YOU owe me one. you wanted to talk in the first place, and when I offered, you refused. you can’t fool me. I knew you were lying about having to deliver flowers.  _

  
  


Keith growls at that. Of course. He just didn’t want to deal with all of this, especially if, at this point, he doesn’t know what he even wants from it, or if it’ll even benefit him or Lance in the end. Probably not.

  
  


**you’re right. I guess. but i don’t know what i want. i still don’t know what to talk about.**

_ maybe we shouldn’t talk about what we had. in elementary. maybe we should just start something new.  _

  
  


That, for one, is not something Keith’s overactive mind had ever taken the time to think of. Thinking of it now had him sitting up in his bed, and staring down at his phone screen like it was  _ the _ best idea to single handedly exist. His hair fell down over his face, so he dropped his phone in his lap and put it up into a bun. Another message from Lance pops up on the screen.

  
  


_ you should meet me outside in ten. i want to show you something. and then maybe we can talk WITHOUT worrying whether i remember something or not.  _

**.**

**okay**

  
  


-

  
  


Lance is quick to leave his apartment. He pulls his sneakers on without untying or retying them, throws on a sweatshirt, and shoves his phone into the front pocket all the while stumbling out of the apartment. There is absolutely no reason to be so excited or pumped up for this, but nonetheless, he is anyway. 

On the way out of the apartment, he silently apologizes to Hunk sleeping in the other room as he snatches his car keys. Lance doesn’t yet have his own car, and since he and Hunk go to the same school, Hunk drives the both of them around. Sometimes, with Hunk’s  _ permission, _ Lance takes his car wherever he needs to go, but this time, he doesn’t take the time to ask. Plus, Hunk would probably tell him no if he told him he was going to meet  _ Keith  _ at like… 10:30pm.

The flower shop really isn't that far from his apartment, but he would very much rather drive this late at night instead of walking. LA may be nice, but it is indeed terrifying at night. That one time he walked to the bar at like 9pm was a big mistake even though nothing actually happened.

Lance tiptoes towards the front door, puts Hunk's car keys in his pocket so they wouldn't jingle around, and unlocks the door. He slips out of the room, and into the cool night air. It's always oddly quiet around this area. 

The parking lot isn't far, so Lance makes a beeline for it, squeezing through other parked cars to make it to Hunk's easier. Hunk's car is a yellow Jeep. It's actually really nice, but totally not something Lance would drive around if it were his. 

He clicks the button on the keys to unlock the doors, and the car honks  _ way _ louder than he expects it to. He cringes, runs up to the car, and yeets open the driver's side door. Starting up the car is practically easier and quieter than unlocking it and witnessing its loud ass honking echoing throughout the neighborhood so late. But as soon as it's started up, he puts the car into drive and eases his way out of the parking lot. 

When he arrives at the flower shop, he disregards every sign saying he can't park right there, and parks anyway. He leaves the car running, though, and when he steps out, and walks around, the door to the shop is already being pushed open from inside. Keith emerges from an otherwise dark room. Though before he walks over to Lance, or vice versa, he turns to lock the door behind him. Lance internally questions why anyone would try to steal or break into a flower shop in the first place.

"What do you want to show me?" Keith asks out of literally nowhere. Lance almost jumps at his voice. 

"It's a surprise. Also it's not that special." Lance responds. He's already walking back around the car when Keith moves to the passengers side. 

Keith opens the door, and slides into the car and onto the seat. "That's not helpful. I will kick your ass if you try to murder me." Keith says, peering at Lance through the corners of his eyes as he buckles himself in. 

"Keith. Look at me and tell me I'm the kind of person to even punch you and  _ mean _ it unless you attacked me first." the brunet retorts, putting the car back into drive. 

"Every serial killer says that, and then they murder the person they told that to." Keith mutters. It's obviously an excuse.

"Okay cool but you're not being murdered tonight." Lance says, blindly moving his right fist to bump Keith's shoulder, which earns him a flinch he didn't necessarily expect either. 

The drive is longer than Lance remembered it to be, but maybe it was just the route he took. The night was also really nice, so he rolls down the windows without warning. He can hear Keith's silent rejections and his lips pull into a smile. When he first moved here for University, he drove past the area, but never actually visited. Today would be the first day he steps foot onto any beach for the first time in a very very long time. It's not the same as the one he would always visit as a kid, but it was good enough, and definitely worth it.

Santa Monica beach may be closed for the night, but Lance doesn't have a care in the world about that. He isn't sure if Keith has visited this place, but he also doesn't care about that. It's the beach. The ocean. A place where everything is kinda perfect in the moment, until you have to leave, and then everything goes back to normal and it kinda sucks and then you miss it and… yeah. 

Keith is silent the entire time, but as Lance pulls into the parking lot right next to the beach, he sits up in his seat. 

"The beach? Dude I thought you were about to take me somewhere wack as fuck." Keith sputters. He doesn't move to unbuckle as fast as Lance does. Lance turns off the car in a flash, and is out the door before Keith can even look over at him. And then Lance is walking over to Keith's side of the car, and he's opening the door. Keith just stares in shock as Lance reaches over Keith's lap and unbuckles the seatbelt.

"Get out, loser. We have some climbing and some stars to watch." Lance states with confidence, stepping back to place his hands on his hips while smiling like a whole ass dork at Keith. It brings back so many fucking memories that Keith has to look away. Not to mention the fact that Lance doesn't seem to notice the fact that him reaching over like he just did was indeed turning Keith's face an involuntary shade of dark red. He still doesn't move right away, not until Lance grabs his arm and pulls him down and out of the car. 

Lance never lets go of Keith's arm, and Keith audibly protests for a while until he realizes that there is no point because Lance is definitely  _ not _ letting go. It's just like when they were kids. Lance would pull Keith around, and intertwine their fingers so casually and so normally. It was always so comfortable and so nice, because their hands fit together so perfectly. Internally, Keith wished they could hold hands so easily like that again, but at the same time, he knew it would be weird. Weird because they weren't kids anymore, and it would come off as if they were a  _ thing _ , and they aren't. They're practically strangers, and it still hurts Keith to even think about that.

Lance comes to a very harsh stop, and Keith is almost ready to keep jogging ahead of him because he was most definitely not paying attention and instead zoning out. He stops, anyway, though, and in front of the two of them is one of those watchtower things. There's already a ramp going up to the little shed thing. The fact that Lance mentioned climbing is suddenly making sense now.

Above them, the sky is clear and the stars are oddly and very unrealistically bright for California. The air pollution must be low today. But even so, it's fucking gorgeous. Keith takes a moment to stare up at the stars, to internally point out the different constellations spread out across the sky, and to take in how beautiful it was. He hasn't properly star gazed in years. 

"Dude, c'mon! We literally don't have all night- I mean. We kinda do but… just c'mon or I'll drag you up there by your ankles." Lance protests. It startles Keith out of his trance, but Keith follows after him anyway.

"I haven't climbed anything for… a while." Keith says, stopping at the top of the ramp to the watchtower while Lance runs ahead and begins pulling himself up to the roof of the tower.

"Then I'll help you!" Lance says through strained grunts of effort. He swings his long ass legs up onto the roof, and then hoists the rest of his body up. It was flawless, like he'd been doing it all his life. 

Keith jogs up to the side of the shed thing, standing in place for a moment. He looks up at Lance who is peering over the edge at him, smiling widely. FUCK that smile. It's too powerful. Too  _ loud. _

"Don't bother." Keith says to Lance's offer to help. He jumps up to grab the edge of the roof, struggles for a few seconds, and then hoists himself up far enough to throw his right leg over the edge. Lance doesn't hesitate to grab his arm and help him despite Keith's ' _ don't bother _ '. Because he's Lance. 

Keith doesn't try to shove Lance off, but when he's entirely on the roof, he shoots Lance a glare. "I could've done it myself." He sneers. Lance just scoffs.

"Yeah, no. You were  _ totally _ about to fall to the ground. I caught you slipping, dumbass." Lance remarks. It clearly doesn't take him very long to begin talking to someone like he's known them all his life. Though, technically he  _ has _ known Keith for most of his life. He just doesn't fucking remember. But that's basically old news already.

"You don't know that!" Keith retorts, turning over so he's properly sitting down, his legs hanging off the edge. "I was fine on my own."

"Mhm, yeah, right." Lance teases, grinning. That damn smile isn't about to leave his face, is it?

Keith just grumbles to himself, pushing himself to his knees and making his way around Lance to the other side of the roof. He rolls over then, and lays flat in his spot. His arms move to rest beneath his head.

A long silence stretches out between the two of them. To Keith's left, he can hear Lance adjusting himself so he's also laying down on his back, eyes to the stars. They are so unbelievably close together that Keith can feel the warmth off of Lance's arms, sweatshirt sleeves rolled up. Keith had gone without a jacket, just a plain, black t-shirt. He kind of regrets it now, because there's a breeze, and it's chilly. It's literally mid November, what the fuck did he expect? 

"What did you do today?” Lance’s voice cuts through the silence. Keith flinches, and Lance turns his head towards the raven. The only way Keith can tell is from the corner of his eye, but mostly because now he can feel the air escaping his nose every time he exhales softly. 

“I  _ did _ deliver flowers for the most part. I can’t really lie about that.” Keith says. He doesn’t want to look at Lance. He doesn’t want to see those blue eyes, not now.

“Who needs flowers right now? It’s November. Are people just dying-” Lance starts, but he cuts himself off with a loud, abrupt laugh. “Wait! That’s so fucking cruel-” he finds himself giggling until he settles back down, taking a deep breath. He’s no longer looking at Keith, but he turns his head back towards Keith just seconds later.

The raven is staring up at the night sky. His expression is blank, but his mind is full. Overflowing, even. The mention of flowers, and the word ‘ _ dying _ ’ sent his mind into hyperdrive. Back to the funeral; age five. Three days before his sixth birthday. He still remembers the pain, and the confusion. He was five, so he barely knew what was going on, yet at the same time, he knew. He just  _ knew _ . He felt it in the pit of his stomach that they were gone. The way Shiro picked him up from kindergarten, the day it happened, instead of his parents. Shiro was crying, so Keith started crying, too. It was so weird, because he didn’t know why. Not at first. Then, when Shiro got him in the car, they didn’t go home. They went straight to Adam’s house. Adam had been in Keith’s life for as long as he can remember, and that felt different. He remembers how, after Shiro tried to get Keith to sleep, he heard Adam and Shiro whispering. It was the first time Keith ever saw Adam and Shiro arguing about something. He still doesn’t know what it was. 

“Keith.” Lance’s voice, once again, breaks the silence. Keith exhales sharply in response, and unlike earlier, he turns his head to look in Lance’s direction. He’s greeted with those damn blue eyes and an expression of concern. “Are you okay?” 

Keith’s lips part, then close again. He stares into Lance’s eyes for longer than expected, but when he looks away, it’s in a rush to sit up straight. He puts his hands to his cheeks and inhales heavily before exhaling. 

“M’sorry.” Keith mumbles. “I lost my head there… for a moment.” 

Lance follows his movements, sitting up beside him and scooting forward just a bit so he can peer around far enough to look Keith in the eyes. Keith averts his gaze, though. He’ll scream if he has to look into Lance’s eyes one more time.

“You don’t have to be sorry…” Lance says quietly. The playful tone in his voice is gone now. “Did I say something?” He asks.

“No, I just-” Keith shakes his head. “Can you drive me home, now?” He murmurs. His stomach is turning over, but not in the nauseated way. More in a needing to cry way. 

“Yeah, um. Yeah.” Lance sputters in response, moving to stand up. Though, he realizes standing up wouldn’t be a good idea, so instead he scoots to the edge and drops to the platform beneath. Fuckin flawlessly.

Keith follows after him, slowly. He turns around to get down, too worried he’ll break his ankles or something if he dropped down like Lance did. Lance lightly catches him, his hands landing on Keith’s waist, and then shoulders. It earns him another flinch from Keith, his hand flying to grab Lance’s wrist.

“Please don’t.” He says. Lance looks at Keith as he does. He wants to say something, but he chooses not to. It’s not his place. Maybe one day, he’ll know what the fuck just happened, but right now isn’t the time.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Lance replies, calmly stepping away from the other male. Keith is clearly upset, and Lance has no right to force him to speak, and if he doesn’t want to be touched, then that’s fine. He can respect that. He doesn’t want to fuck this up.

Lance quietly walks down and around the ramp. He doesn’t have to look back to know that Keith is following, so he keeps going until he reaches Hunk’s Jeep. 

Keith  _ is _ following, but slowly. He’s looking down at his phone, squinting at the brightness of his screen. 

On his screen are 10+ messages from Pidge, and 3 from Shiro. Which makes sense because he left without warning, and Shiro must’ve gotten back shortly afterwards. 

He doesn’t try to respond to them just yet, so he shuts his screen off and tucks his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he reaches the car, he climbs into the passenger's seat without a single word. Lance doesn’t ask any questions the whole drive back.

When they arrive at the flower shop, Keith is quicker than Lance is this time to jump out of the car. Lance blinks, taken aback by Keith’s rush to leave the vehicle. He rushes after Keith without thinking twice, and before Keith has the chance to unlock the door and walk back inside, he jumps in front of him. 

The height difference has Lance hesitating, but it isn’t much in the first place. And Keith staring back into his eyes is enough to distract him from that. 

Speaking, or doing what he wanted to do, was ridiculously hard to do when the silence was so  _ loud. _ A few cars passed behind them, and the headlights illuminated Keith’s face. It looked like a light had turned off somewhere inside of him just by the way his eyes were dull, and the bags beneath his eyes were visible. 

Lance still couldn’t find any words, so he bit his tongue, and the insides of his cheeks, and extended his arms over Keith’s shoulders to pull him into a tight hug. It was a big risk, considering how Keith reacted to the way Lance had reached out to him earlier, but he didn’t do anything this time. The two of them stumbled back a few steps, but Lance clung on. He pressed his face into the crook of Keith’s neck, and with that, he spoke.

“I’m so fucking sorry about all of this. I’m even more sorry if I said something earlier. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot that one day. I’m sorry I didn’t message you or call you right away. I’m sorry I can’t remember anything. And I’m sorry that you’re upset. Right now, or whenever, about any of this, or outside issues.” The words spil. He doesn’t stop them. “Something about you makes me want to hold on to you. I took you out today because I wanted to show you that I do give a shit despite my pettiness about the first… second day that we met. I want you to be okay, and saying that feels so weird. Because you’re a whole new person to me. Yet at the same time, I feel like I know you more than anyone.” He inhales heavily as he finishes that sentence, having forgotten to fucking breathe halfway through. 

It takes another long stretch of silence, and the feeling of Keith shifting under Lance’s body until his arms gently wrap around Lance’s torso, for the silence to be broken. It’s an incredibly weird sensation. For the both of them.

“This is weird.” Keith murmurs. His touch is soft, and he isn’t really hugging back, more or less just resting his hands on Lance’s back. 

“Yeah.” Lance replies faster than he intended, and with that, he pulls away. He shakes his head to himself as soon as he does. “Sorry. I just- take care of yourself, okay? I want this to work… at least somewhat. And maybe you can help me remember.” 

Keith falters at that statement, but smiles a weak smile. “Okay.” He says, the smile turning into the purse of his lips. “I have to go. Shiro is worrying.” He whispers. He doesn’t say anything as he turns around, unlocks the door and walks back into the shop. 

Lance lifts his hand to scratch at his hairline, watching as Keith locks the door from the inside, and walks into the darkness of the shop before disappearing entirely. 

He spins around on his heels, enters Hunk’s car once again, and drives off wishing he could go back before everything hit the fucking fan.

  
  


-

  
  


As Keith walks into the living room where Shiro is back on the couch, the floor creaks, and as if he were sneaking back in like he was 15 again, he jumps. Shiro looks over at him with that, and he remains seated with the most disappointed expression scrawled out on his face.

“Usually you tell me where you go, Keith.” Shiro deadpans, throwing one arm over the back of the couch. “Why didn’t you answer my texts, either?”

Keith holds back from rolling his eyes. He’s 22. That’s childish.

“Lance took me to the beach. In Santa Monica. Eighteen, twentyish minutes away.” He tells Shiro, waving his hand as he explains how far away it is. Shiro just frowns.

“I know where that is.” Shiro says. 

“Right. But um. Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t plan for it to happen.. so I guess that’s why I didn’t tell you. Pidge was also trying to get a hold of me so… yeah. Sorry.” Keith replies. His voice is hollow, and Shiro picks up on it quicker than Keith thought he would. 

When Keith tries to head off towards his room, Shiro speaks up again.

“Don’t stress too much. It’ll take time. For now, I think you guys are getting somewhere. But please try to take it slow. You have both been through a lot. There has to be a reason he doesn’t remember, and he’ll tell you when he’s ready.” 

Keith’s nostrils flare. Unintentionally, but mostly because the last bit of that had his mind throwing itself into another whirlpool of thoughts. He walks off to his room thinking ‘ _ maybe he’s right. _ ’ 


	3. More apologies

Hey ! I'm back.... it's been a really long time. Again. Sorry for that. I can't keep up with anything, but I also got super busy and I was out of state for an entire month with family. I still can't really start the new chapter yet because of the fact that the charger to my computer broke and I havent gotten a new one yet so I'm currently writing this from my phone. I'd write the new chapter here too but its really hard for me to stay focused when I write on my phone and I find it really difficult.  
I will definitely come back at some point though! Pinky promises to all of you. I've been listening to the klance playlist I made specifically for this fanfiction and I miss them so much and I actually have ideas and I might start typing out a little on my phone but as of now I won't be able to release anything for a while. I'm finally getting a job soon, too, and from there hopefully a permit and a drivers license at some point. Shit is getting real so I'm getting more and more busy but I will try as hard as I can to make time to write more! And to those of you who will definitely tell me to take my time, I will assure you that I am :) I just personally really want to get back to this as soon as I can.  
Thank you for sticking around, suckers! Ilyasm and I'll hopefully be able to work on something soon  
<3


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